Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar, #2)(77)

“This sucks,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, sweetie. It does.”

She looked up at me, her bottom lip worried between her teeth. “Do you think you and Mom might ever get together again?”

My shoulders sank. More than anything, I wanted to tell her yes. To tell her that we’d be a family again. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I love your mom.”

“You do?”

I nodded. “I’ll always love your mom. She’s the best person I’ve ever met. And she gave me you and Max.”

“Then I don’t understand. I know Mom loves you too. So why can’t you be together? Don’t you like living here with us?”

“More than anything.” I gave her a sad smile. “I know it’s hard to understand. We love each other, but we have to be able to make each other happy too. And right now, we don’t. Does that make sense?”

She shrugged. “Sorta.”

That was a no. It didn’t make sense. I was struggling to comprehend it all myself. And I was dreading the end of this day.

After our fight two weeks ago, Molly and I had been avoiding one another. It had given me plenty of time to ponder our situation. To dig deep and decide if I could truly forgive Molly for what had happened that night.

Fourteen days, and I wasn’t any closer to the answer.

So today, after the yard was finished, I was going home.

Alone.

“What’s up?” Molly asked as she stepped through the patio door, following Max as he raced toward me and Kali.

“We’re ready to plant the lilac bush.”

She smiled, doing a sweep of the yard. “It looks so wonderful out here.”

“Yeah, it does.” The best yard on earth. Not because of the landscaping, but because of her and the kids. Because we’d built it together.

Molly came over and knelt down next to me and Kali. Max hovered around us, bouncing from one foot to the next as I lifted the bush above the hole.

“Need help?” Molly asked, her hands reaching out.

“I’ve got it.” With the bush placed in the hole, I gave the nod to start pushing in dirt. “Okay, guys. Fill it in.”

Four pairs of hands dove into the dirt, shoving and packing it around the roots.

“That’s it?” Max asked when the hole was filled.

Molly laughed. “That’s it. What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. I think I like tearing stuff out better than planting.”

I clapped him on the shoulder. “The next time I need an extra hand on a demolition job, you’re my guy.”

“Yes.” He fist-pumped. “Mom, can I go to the park?”

“As long as your sister goes too.”

Max’s eyes snapped to Kali. “Pleeease come with me.”

“Sure.” She smiled and stood, brushing dirt off her bare knees.

Molly tapped the watch on her wrist. “Don’t stay too long. It’s almost dinnertime.”

“Okay, Mom.” Kali nodded before she and Max took off for the gate in the fence.

“Hold up,” I called, pushing off the ground. Then I caught up to them before they disappeared down the neighborhood trail system that led to a playground. “I’m heading home soon.”

“Oh.” Max’s frame slumped. Kali wouldn’t make eye contact with me.

“How about a hug?”

They both rushed me, latching their arms around my waist like they were drowning. I put a hand on each of their heads. “Love you, guys.”

“Love you, Dad,” Kali whispered.

Max just hugged me tighter.

Behind us, Molly stood with her arms snaked around her waist and her gaze pointed anywhere but at us.

We’d talked last night about how this would go. Molly didn’t want to make a big deal about it. She said we’d treat it like any normal day. I wanted to work in the yard. She needed to do some house cleaning. Then when the day was over, I’d go home.

Normal. Routine. Miserable.

“See you guys in a couple days.”

Max nodded against my hip.

Kali pulled away and ducked her head as she swiped at her eyes. “Come on, Max.”

He squeezed me one last time then let go and bolted for the fence.

I watched as they sprinted down the path, their tennis shoes pounding on the packed gravel as they ran. It was a punishing run, like they were both taking their frustration with their parents out on the gravel.

I waited until they were out of sight, then I turned and walked toward the house.

Molly met me on the way and I held the patio door open for her to go inside. The house smelled of bleach and lemon. My cleaning service used the same products as Molly, per my request, but they didn’t smell the same.

This smelled like home.

“Can I help you pack?” she asked, toying with the hair ties on her wrist. Today’s were coral and yellow. Neither went with her outfit, but that was what I loved about them. They were always bright.

“No, I’m good. I just need to clear out the stuff from the bathroom and I’ll be set.”

She nodded toward the kitchen. “I’ll just finish in there. Say good-bye before you go?”

“I will.” I went to the guest bathroom and packed up my leather toiletry case. The sound of running water came from the kitchen.